


the art of stealth

by kbaycolt



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Platonic Kissing, im trying to figure out how to write jon, kissing as a diversion!! to avoid being captured!!, self indulgent fantasy au, what if we were thieves robbing the king.... and we were both boys..... haha... unless?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:54:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24293194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kbaycolt/pseuds/kbaycolt
Summary: "You look stressed, boss.""Maybe that's because we're thieves breaking into the royal fucking castle, Tim.""Yeah, but, all that tension can't be good for your joints.""Can we please save this conversation for when we're not in danger of being captured and hanged for treason?"
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Jonathan Sims & Tim Stoker
Comments: 10
Kudos: 85





	the art of stealth

This was a bad idea. This was a monumentally idiotic mistake. Jon clung to the window ledge tightly, plastering himself to the cold stone. Below him was a sheer drop.

"Tim," he hissed at the window. "Let me in before I die."

"I'm working on it," Tim replied, his voice muffled through the glass. "You're not going to die. The ground's not too far away."

Jon, unfortunately, knew exactly how far away the ground was, and how many bones he would break if he fell. He wouldn't die (probably) but it would certainly hurt and most definitely would draw the attention of the royal guards.

"Two hundred and six bones available to be shattered if I slip," Jon said.

"Two hundred and four," Tim corrected. "Hopworth took two of your ribs when you tried to steal his Leitner."

"You told me he wouldn't be home!"

"I can make mistakes!"

As Tim continued to fiddle with the lock, agonizingly slow, Jon allowed himself a very brief glance downwards.

The cobblestone below seemed to loom very, very far below, and the world spun dizzily until Jon squeezed his eyes shut and curled closer against the ledge.

"You look stressed, boss," Tim remarked.

"Maybe that's because we're thieves breaking into the royal fucking castle, Tim."

"Yeah, but, all that tension can't be good for your joints."

Jon could think of quite a few things about this situation that weren't good for his joints. "Can we please save this conversation for when we're not in danger of being captured and hanged for treason?"

 _Click._ The window unlatched and Tim shoved it to the side, reaching out to grab Jon by the wrists and yank him into the room. The momentum sent them both tumbling to the floor in a heap. Dust billowed up around them, sending Jon into a coughing fit. His heart pounded wildly in his chest. He focused on taking in slow, even breaths, trying to calm down.

"Uh, boss," Tim said. "Can you get off me?"

Jon opened his eyes to find that he and Tim were pressed chest-to-chest, with Jon's arms on either side of Tim's head. Tim had an amused eyebrow raised at him.

He leapt up and scrambled backwards to put distance between them, face burning.

"You could've just asked if you wanted to cuddle," Tim said, grinning.

"Shut up, Tim."

Getting to his feet, Jon did a quick survey of the room they'd ended up in. It was an old storage space, filled with various pieces of junk that King Magnus no longer found a use for. There was a fine layer of dust coating the shelves. Jon scowled in disgust when he saw the books, stacked haphazardly and white with mildew.

"No respect for literature," he muttered, grabbing a few tomes and shoving them into his bag. "Incompetent fool. Discarding anything that doesn't serve his selfish goals."

"Right, all valid complaints, but we've kinda got bigger fish to fry," Tim reminded him.

"I know, I know. Let's do this."

They both quickly shed their top layer of dark, inconspicuous clothing for the wealthy garb they'd snatched from some noblemen the week before. Tim's elegantly tailored outfit was colored a rich crimson. The collar was turned down, revealing little golden flowers stitched into the fabric. It complemented Tim's complexion wonderfully.

Jon blushed and looked away when Tim caught him staring, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

"Shut up."

"Not too bad yourself," Tim said.

"Shut _up_."

"Fine, I'm shutting up. So, you didn't exactly tell me what we're supposed to be stealing, even though that probably would've made this whole thing a lot easier."

" _I_ am stealing an enchanted crown. _You_ are going to be the lookout."

"Hey, you promised me a high-stakes heist," Tim protested. "Lookout is boring."

Jon shot him a withering look. "This is a high-stakes heist, Tim. You seem to have forgotten the part where you will be executed and Jonah Magnus will almost certainly lock me up forever if we are caught."

"Yeah, yeah, still, lookout? Really?"

"If you so desperately want different job next time, bring it up with Martin when we're out of here." Jon adjusted the strap of his bag. "Can please we get on with it now?"

Tim nodded.

They stepped out into the hall. It was illuminated by several green lanterns, which, upon closer inspection, were filled with little crackling balls of fire. Jonah always did have a taste for drama. Searching his memories of the castle, Jon grabbed Tim's arm and tugged him to the left, turning around a corner. They fell into more casual stances, walking side by side.

Jon felt a frown twist his lips. He was uncomfortably at ease here, stalking down familiar corridors and mindlessly rounding corners that he'd once traveled as Jonah's apprentice, paying little mind to others, his mind set entirely on whatever new task Jonah had presented to him.

He used to jump at the chance to please Jonah. The idea now made him feel vaguely ill.

"Where are we going?" Tim whispered, his voice echoing uncannily, bouncing off the dark stone walls and fading into the cold stillness. The castle had never felt this chillingly hostile in the past.

"Jonah should be distracted by Martin and Melanie," Jon replied. He paused briefly to listen, casting his mind out to test for other people, but there was nothing. They kept moving. "He only wears the crown when he's communing with Beholding, and he leaves it in his chambers when he's busy elsewhere."

"And I'm guessing you know where the crown is?"

"Yes."

Tim made a slightly displeased noise.

"I can't say I disagree," Jon murmured.

They walked for a few more minutes, each light step much too loud in the silent hallways. Jon was just beginning to relax, hoping this might go smoother than his various anxious worst-case scenarios, when he jolted to an abrupt stop. An image flashed in his mind of dark skin and bright eyes and an unimpressed raised brow, a book clasped beneath an arm. Tim stumbled beside him.

"Shit," Jon hissed.

"What?"

"Basira. She's coming this way. She knows what I look like, she works directly under Magnus, even if she decides to let us go Jonah will know we were here."

Tim bit his lip. "There's no other way to the crown?"

"If there is, I don't know about them."

"How far away is she?"

Jon closed his eyes. "Any second she'll turn the corner and see us."

"Damn. Okay. I have a plan, but you have to trust me."

Opening his eyes, Jon squinted at Tim. "You can't just tell me?"

" _Trust_ me, Jon."

"Fine, I trust you."

"Thanks. Is she-?"

"Now. You better have something good."

Basira rounded the corner, walking at a brisk yet not entirely purposeful pace. In that moment, Tim moved to block Jon from Basira's line of sight, tilted his chin up with a brief touch, and kissed him.

Jon made a quiet noise of shock but recovered quickly, reaching up to thread a hand in Tim's hair and lean into the kiss. Tim shifted, moving to loosely grip the nape of Jon's neck, his lips warm and surprisingly soft, and Jon found he wasn't quite opposed to it. Jon's eyes slipped closed. He let Tim take the lead in gently pressing Jon to the stone wall, arms bracketing his face and effectively shielding it from sight.

They broke apart slightly for air. Jon caught a glimpse of Tim's flushed and grinning appearance before Basira coughed. Tim turned, still using his body to block Jon, and said, "Need something?"

"Hm," Basira said, disapproval clear in her tone. "Please take it somewhere else. This wing is for research, not..."

"Who says I'm not a researcher?"

Despite not being able to see her, Jon knew she was levelling Tim with a flat, irritated stare.

"Come on," Tim cajoled. "Let us wrap this up, eh? Don't you believe in love?"

Basira sighed heavily. "Alright. Hurry up and get out of here before I come back."

"Will do. Thanks a ton."

As soon as Basira was gone, Tim stepped away, smiling apologetically. Jon almost crumpled from the loss of heat and support. "Sorry about that. I should've asked, but I figured you would just complain and protest if I told you and we'd get caught."

"Ah, well, no worries. It wasn't, erhm, terrible."

"Not terrible? That's the equivalent of a gold star from you, boss, I'll take it." Tim ran a hand through his mussed hair in an attempt to fix it. Jon knew he probably looked like a wreck and went about adjusting his appearance, ignoring Tim's bright, amused gaze.

"I mean I didn't mind it, Tim. I actually... ah, sort of enjoyed it...?" Jon coughed and averted his eyes.

Tim's grin grew wider. "Aw, I'm honored."

"Shut up, Stoker."

Throwing an arm around Jon's shoulders, Tim dragged him into a hug and kissed the top of his head with a chuckle. Jon crossed his arms, glaring.

"I'm not being grumpy," he muttered.

"I didn't say you were."

"You were thinking very hard."

"You know," Tim said, ignoring him and his not-grumpy scowl, "you just gave me the green light for all the platonic affection I've been withholding because you always looked so prickly. I'm not letting you pass up a hug ever again."

" _Tim_."

"Jo- _on_."

"We have a job to do." Jon finally wriggled out of Tim's admittedly warm and strong arms. "Come on."

They started walking again.

"You don't have to lie to me," Tim said after a moment. "I know you're not as mean and angry as you try to be."

"Yes, well, you come off as just as much of a prick as you actually are."

Tim laughed and clapped a hand on Jon's shoulder. "Love ya, boss."

Jon flushed bright red. "Shut up, Tim."

**Author's Note:**

> this inspired a whole tma fantasy au,,,,, so perhaps watch out for that


End file.
